I miss you.
I miss you so much it hurts.
English literary always romanticized sadness but it’s not supposed to be poetic. Not when you’re whole body is aching for a pain that isn’t physically there. Not when your heart errs for feeling of emptiness and all the shouts you directed through the void is futile. Not when the brain keeps on replaying the moments that trigger where it hurts.
It is not poetic, but there is something grotesquely beautiful on the words that a broken heart evokes. It conjures a story that makes you feel, albeit morosely.
I’ve never wanted to forget anyone this much. I don’t want to remember you anymore. But I do. I always do.
After all the fighting and the anger and the begging, I ‘m just so exhausted and I want to sleep it all off. When you stripped me of all the rights to keep you by my side, how did you expect me to go on, when you knew all along that you were my life support? The pain muted all my protest and in between throwing a pity-party for myself and my reflex to hurt you back, I let the tides take me instead.
It feels like falling down the abyss, screaming for salvation only to be greeted by my own echo because really, you weren’t going to save me. And I hated you for it for a while but then I just feel so sad and empty after the rage subsides.
I hated you, then cursed you and then hated you some more because you have ruined me to other men. How can you expect me to give my all to someone else when you took half of me when you left? How is it fair to be asking someone to give me more than I can offer? I don’t even think I have enough to give to anyone when I barely have some myself. How do I move on from you when I clearly gave you my all?
I don’t want to hold on to my sadness. But I can’t let it go as well. How can I, when all this time you taught me how to live and even after you left this sadness you gave me is the only connection to life I have.
Even now, you remain the anchor to my reality. You were the semicolon when all I wanted was to put a period to my sentence. Even though I have no hold on you, you still managed to influence my life in a way that makes me nurse my sadness if only to hold on to what little of you I have left.
Even in melancholy, you still made me feel. I hate you for it. But I love you even more. I wish I could have loved you more. I wish that my love would have been enough to make you stay.
Sometimes, when I am drunk in emotional stupor, I wish so hard that you never left. I gave you my frail heart and you trampled on it and even then you are still the only one who can put it back together. I hope you realized that you will always hold the best parts of me even if you tore me to millions of pieces.
And I just miss you.
But I can’t afford to always miss you anymore.
Because now I have to miss me, too. I miss the me before there was you. And if I keep thinking of you, I may not have her back, so I will miss you a little less now.